12 Monkeys: Alternate Universe: Mission reboot
by bcboykin
Summary: Cole's mission is given a reboot, with a new take on his mission coming from an unexpected source. Cassandra Railly has a new role. Leland Goines is spared and secrets are revealed. (I have replaced the original monkey image with another found at Wikimedia as it is my intention either to use original art or photos in the public domain-thank you reviewer).
1. Prologue

_**Year 2010 - Fledgling run (Cole flashback)**_

James Cole could scarcely believe his eyes—or any of his senses. He saw little evidence of the decay from his own time—and there were so many people! Men, women and children—_so this is what the world looked like when populated by 7 billion people! _he thought.

This trip was for his training and an experiment in precision. Jones wanted to see if her machine could pinpoint with accuracy a time and location. All at the same time she was tracking him, and plotting the parameters of his return trip.

He looked up at tall buildings, their polished windows reflecting the bright sun and blue sky above. A bicyclist swerved around and between cars on the busy street.

_So much of everything! Undamaged—in running condition._

_..._

Cole looked at a color TV monitor mounted at eye level on one building. The news team, well dressed, somber and serious, were reporting stories that awakened his attention and curiosity. A reporter spoke about the vicious beating of a youth by members of a street gang—it reminded him instantly of the West 7 "tribe" from his time.

Another story caught his attention. Across the bottom of the TV screen in bold letters, he read the words:

_The Continuing Fight Against Modern Slavery: Release of the Trafficking in Persons Report_

The journalist spoke in serious somber tones:

"This year is the 10 year anniversary of the enactment of the Trafficking Victims Protection Act, when the UN established international standards to fight the growing menace. Earlier this year, the President of the United States made the following statement,"

"The victims of modern slavery have many faces. They are men and women, adults and children. Yet, all are denied basic human dignity and freedom. … All too often suffering from horrible physical and sexual abuse, it is hard for them to imagine that there might be a place of refuge."

Cole pondered these statements. In his own time, the population was sparse and scattered. He recalled seeing a few instances of forced bondage. This was not a widespread practice in his time. At any given moment, a plague outbreak would decimate the ranks of any victims in bondage—and often the captors themselves.

...

As he continued to walk the street, he saw a homeless person. Cole observed the gaunt, haggard man as he begged each passerby. Here was something familiar—someone like a scavenger from his own time. Although it was not a cold day, the man was wrapped in several blankets and wore multiple socks that peeked over the edges of the ragged gym shoes that the man wore on his feet.

"Hey, man, can you spare a dollar so I can get something to eat?" The homeless man held out a tin can to him and shook it, and the can rattled with the sound of a few coins.

Cole was reminded suddenly of the scavengers who wandered the streets of his own time. After the plague, and after the world's population was decimated, there was no need for currency. People bartered for what they needed—trading items of small value for other similar items—or went without.

"I've got nothing, man," he said slowly, simply, and looking at the man fully.

The homeless man smiled, shrugging good naturedly.

"That's all right. Thanks for stopping. Many people would have walked by me as if I were invisible, but you didn't. God bless you!"

Cole watched as the man returned to a shopping cart containing various items—tin cans, empty soda bottles, scrap pieces of metal. The man emptied the tin can in his hand into another larger can that rested in the shopping cart. Cole watched, fascinated, as the man drew a blanket tighter around his stooped frame, slid to a seated position. The man reached behind the cart and pulled out a cardboard sign, inscribed in black marker with a saying that caused Cole some astonishment. The sign read,

**'THE END IS NEAR'.**


	2. Cole and Cassie

12 Monkeys Alternate Universe – Splinter – Reboot

Disclaimer: The author of this fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

**YEAR 2013**

This was not his first trip to the past. He thought it would be his last.

Jones placed him exactly right. The right time, the right place. There she was—Dr. Cassandra Railly, the key to the whole business. She knew where to find Leland Frost.

Frost must die.

The lives of 7 billion people were at stake.

Dr. Railly must tell the whereabouts of Frost, and he would coerce her cooperation…by any means. He watched her as she walked to her car, talking in low tones, although no one was with her. Was she talking to herself? He crouched to a lower position in the back seat of her car. An hour earlier he easily jimmied the car lock and waited patiently, silently. The illumination from a parking lot street lamp did not quite reach the space he had chosen to hide. Although it was a cool night, he he felt the film of sweat on his forehead.

As he had rehearsed over and over in his mind, he thought of the ways that he would convince her that he was from the future. By rote memorization, he had learned all the facts of her life, drilled into him by the scientists who prepared him for the journey.

Cassandra Railly entered the car, still talking. Cole swiftly emerged from the shadows, showing her the knife, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Her first words astonished him beyond belief.

She said, "Cole! At last!"

She swiveled her head back to look at him, his face now partially revealed, and said, "My God! You haven't changed at all!"

She laughed briefly at the look on his face. Then she immediately became serious.

She put her hand over the mouthpiece and whispered urgently… "Wait! Quiet! Can't you see I'm on the phone? Put the knife away. If you're overheard taking me away, you'll be chased, and probably shot!" She then gave an exasperated sigh. "Obviously, I'm going with you willingly."

_Is she mistaking him for someone she knows? How would she know his name? Did he arrive in the wrong time?_ Cole raised his voice, "Look, Dr. Railly…"

She raised her hand, anticipating his interruption.

"Wait, wait, let me hang up my cell phone…" She pointed at the phone in her hand.

Then she said, to her boyfriend, "Aaron, that was nothing, just someone asking directions. Look, sweetie, I'll call you later, yes, remember what I said. I'm at my car now, 'bye!"

Then she motioned Cole to her car. She said,

"Aaron doesn't know about our 'save-the-world' mission right now".

Checking her watch, she nodded to herself. "We have a good 30 minutes. Yes, I know you, Cole. You grew up in foster care. Your best friend is a guy named Ramse. You were sent to me -from the year 2043-by a woman, a German scientist named Jones. You were going to ask me about a name: 'Leland Frost'. Satisfied?"

In utter confusion, he blurted out, "How do you know me?"

She handed him a tube. She began to drive, which eased his nervous tension.

"Here, take this. I'm driving us to an all-night diner where we can talk—until you have to leave. First, you've got to pull out the letter in this container, and read it before you do anything else…"

"Look, I don't have time…I definitely don't have all night…I need to know"

"Yes, yes, I know all that. You have just enough time if you stop arguing with me. Read it. I promise you everything soon will make sense."

By the light of the passing street lamps, he studied the tube. In large, bold letters on the outside of the tube he read his own name—"JAMES COLE".

"Who gave this to you? How could anyone know I'm here? This can't be possible!"

She shook her head in frustration. "Who gave it to me? YOU DID. Shut up and read it!"

...

Cole uncurls the letter and reads the following:

_**This letter may cause a temporal paradox, in which case all hell will break loose-sooner or later. I'm taking the chance because of the importance of the mission. You recognize your own handwriting. Think of me as an older, more experienced you.**_

_**First, you can't kill Leland Frost—the guy you are looking for is named Leland Goines anyway, and you can't kill him or worse things will happen. Don't kill anybody! Trust me—I tried it once and it did no good. You have to keep a guy named Henri Toussaint alive too—his life is in danger.**_

_**You're going to understand more and more when everything goes down. Your mission right now is to hide Easter eggs… Ask Cassie about an Easter egg hunt. By the way, destroy this letter—burn it.**_

_**...**_

_The diner_

The diner was all but deserted and the booths partially hidden in deep shadows. Cassie led the way to such a booth, motioning to the waitress, a young girl with a light brown complexion and a short Afro. Cassie read the waitress' nameplate which said "CLEO".

"Hi Cleo. He'll have a cheeseburger, please. Two coffees, also." To Cole, she said, "Your favorite."

He shrugged, "I don't know. We don't have those in ... in my time."

The meal arrived and the waitress walked away. Then—over coffee and a cheeseburger—she stared at him intently. Suddenly, she held up her wrist showing him her watch.

"I'll keep track of the time, this time around. By the way, I know you have my watch. Keep it in your pocket, please. Oh, the look on your face! You're a quick study. You'll pick it up soon enough."

"Dr. Railly?"

"Yes?"

"What does he, that is, what do _I_ mean about an 'Easter egg hunt'?"

"I haven't read the letter—you had me promise not to read it. I don't know what it says. May I?"

She read it quickly.

Cole looked at her intently. It says, "Don't kill Leland Frost, or Goines, and that I should ask you about an Easter egg hunt… But I'm killing Frost. _I've got to do it._ That will save 7 billion people. Then, I'll be erased-making up for all the wrongs I've done in my life."

"What!" she exclaimed. "_That_ was your mission—'kill Leland Frost' when you don't even know who he is for sure? Who came up with that stupid idea? How could Jones invent a working time machine and not know anything about the rules of time travel? What is this business about being 'erased'? How does that even make sense?"

She snorted in disdain. "We'll get to that if we have time. Let's deal with the other part—your _real_ mission.

"I know about the rules that you and Ramse set for yourself. You both agreed not to kill others indiscriminately, and only in self-defense. Despite the savagery around you, you were following a rule written in your heart—we would call it 'the golden rule.' The rule says,

'Do to others what you want them to do to you'.

She paused to let the words sink in.

"We might go further to say that all rules of right behavior are summed up in just two rules:

'Love God. Love your fellow man.'

"Way, way in the past-hundreds of years ago, there was a German—like your scientist—except that he was a Christian priest, and he started a movement in the 16th century called 'the Reformation'".

Cole shrugged his shoulders, and said, "We don't have too many history books available in my time either."

Cassie said, "Not your fault, I know. But it makes it kinda difficult to be a time traveler, doesn't it?"

This man, his name was Martin Luther, is also thought to have started the Easter egg hunt. The egg was the symbol of something."

When he next looked up, Cassie handed him a lit match, and the letter was swallowed up in a bright flame-quickly resulting in ashes.

...

Cassie called the waitress over. Cleo noticed the aroma of smoke. "Hey!" she said. If you're smoking something, you've gotta take it outside. There's no smoking in here!"

"The smoke was my fault. It won't happen again. Cleo, could you bring us a raw, unbroken egg? My friend here is a protein nut…put it on the bill, thank you!"

Cole retorted, as Cleo walked away, "I know what an egg is—even in 2043 we have eggs-but no cheeseburgers."

"Got it. No cheeseburgers, no history books. Pay attention, I wish to make a point."

After receiving the egg, and the waitress had walked away, she held up the egg. Pointing to it, she said,

"Think of this egg as a representation of the tomb-death, cold, silence. However, at one point in its past it represented life—a potential birth."

"Now, you came to bring death, hoping that life would result, despite the fact that you yourself would be erased from existence. However, causing death cannot result in life."

"Instead, you've changed courses. You have an enemy that is unseen and unknown as yet. Everything that you do has to be a fight against death—on both ends of your travels. Any message you bring must be a message of life and hope. Easter, if you've never heard of it, was the celebration of the resurrection of the one called Christ from the dead. The Easter egg was an egg, or an object usually shaped like an egg that contained candy or some small treasure."

"You will be hiding Easter eggs. It won't always be an egg—this tube, although shaped differently, is an 'Easter egg'. Your Easter eggs will contain clues, messages to your future self, or your colleagues and they will be markers for your journey".

"Now, look at this."

Taking a napkin from the table and a marker from her purse, Cassie drew a tree.

Tracing the tree with her finger, she said, "Cole, time is like this tree trunk. The branches are alternate paths time might take."

She drew a monkey on each branch, each monkey holding a large egg.

"When you are traveling in time, you are this monkey jumping from branch to branch—each branch is never too far from another branch."

He counted the branches—there were twelve.

"So, there are 12 monkeys?"

Cassie took a diagram from her purse. The diagram showed the face of a monkey—surrounded by 12 monkeys holding hands.

"Cole, you are the monkeys—all of them. Each monkey is at a different time junction, in different realities. Each and every monkey is _you_. You are, or will become, the 'Army of the 12 Monkeys'."

Cole looked at Cassie directly, with a dumbfounded look. Abruptly, he said, "Uh oh. I feel it coming. I'm about to…"

Cassie looked at her watch, smiled at him, and said. "…Splinter? Don't worry, I know where you're headed next. When you return to 2043, ask Whitley what it was his dad gave him. Then ask Jones about the "Hitler paradox." See you in two years!"

After Cole vanished, Cassie looked around and breathed a sigh of relief that the waitress was in the kitchen and no one else was in the diner. "That was too close for comfort."

She left a bill on the diner counter and walked out. When she was gone, the waitress, picked up the crumbled napkin with the tree and the monkeys and studied it intently before putting it in her apron pocket.

...

**YEAR 2043**

The machine hummed a long time before anything happened. The scientists were working to bring Cole back from the year 2013.

Close at hand, Whitley frowned as he looked over the bruises on his hand, barely visible on his dark skin. Not long ago, he'd had another scuffle with Cole's friend, Ramse. Dr. Jones had made it clear that Ramse was to be kept alive to secure the cooperation of Cole. Neither man trusted the other, and from time to time exchanged blows. Thankfully, Ramse was on a scouting trip and steering clear of the laboratory and the time machine.

Rifle in hand, Whitley looked back and forth from Dr. Jones to the empty seat of the machine. He never doubted the scientist. He was worried that the technology might fail-that the power would give out. There had been so many wasted years, and he thought about the other time travelers who did not make it back intact…

"Is it working?" he pondered to himself. At that same moment, Cole reappeared in the seat.

Jones exclaimed, "Mr. Cole, did you find Dr. Railly? Did she tell you where Leland Frost is?"

Cole sat quietly for moments, breathing heavily and recovering himself. Jones wrung her hands in nervous anticipation.

"Speak, man!"

Slowly, Cole fixed her with his gaze. He said,

"There is no 'Leland Frost.'

He looked around at Jones, and the assembled scientists, and Whitley.

"Yeah, Dr. Cassandra Railly was there—I found her. She knew I was coming. She knew all about me. She had met me before. Dr. Jones, how is that possible?"

Cole then swiveled his gaze to Whitley.

"Whitley, she…she knew your name too, somehow. She wanted me to ask you a question."

Warily, Whitley tensed up, thinking: _What game is this?_

"Ok, scav. What question? What possible question could your lady from the past have for _me_?"

"She told me to ask you: 'What did your father give you for safekeeping?'"

With a stunned look and after a long pause, Whitley reached in his shirt and pulled out a chain with an oblong locket.

He said, "I never could make any sense of it". Opening the locket, he withdrew a tightly wrapped wad of paper. It was the same drawing from the diner. It was the same _napkin_, showing:

_**The Army of the 12 Monkeys.**_


	3. Aaron and Cassie

12 Monkeys Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: The author of this fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

**Year 2015 - Aaron and Cassie**

Towards the end of the day, during the last rays of a red sunset, Aaron Marker overheard his employer, the senator, speaking in low tones –and a few words caught his attention:

_Operation Troy…the virus…keep it contained…_

Senator Royce looked up from his conversation, covered the speaker on the phone, and said,

"Aaron, go on home now to Cassie. Thank you for your hard work today. I'll be leaving soon myself".

"Ýes sir. Thank you, sir."

...

Aaron drove slowly away from Senator Royce's office. He needed the time to think, and he welcomed the feel of the cold air from the lowered window against his skin, matching his mood. He felt brittle—cold, inside and out.

He pondered for the umpteenth time:

_Was it my fault? She always works so hard…did she learn it from me? Did I push away when once we were so close? What can I do to get back what we had!_

He sensed that there was a secret that she withheld from him. He knew that it was not another man—it was something else. Something woke her in the middle of the night, and she sat up staring in the dark. Something that brought spells of sadness. Something inexplicable, and _catastrophic_.

Their wedding had not been so long ago…

_We are gathered together here to unite this man Aaron Marker and this woman Cassandra Railly in the bonds of matrimony ... Do you, Cassandra, take Aaron to be your lawfully wedded husband?..._

…

Dr. Cassandra Railly remembered how happy Aaron was on the day that she finally accepted his marriage proposal. He thought that married life together would remove her sadness. It had not. After the wedding, when she suggested to Aaron that they attend a local church together on a regular basis, he was cautiously optimistic. He had been raised in the church, she had not. On the kitchen table, he saw the title of a book that she had recently brought home from a Bible study session:

_Armageddon and the Seven Last Plagues_

One reference caught his attention, and he began reading:

_…Psalm 106:29 Thus they provoked Him to anger with their inventions: and the plague brake in upon them..._

Cassie, for her part, started to tell him more than once. She looked at him many times, in the dark, in the early morning hours when he was still sleeping. Sometimes, when they kissed, she blinked back tears, coughing briefly to mask her sorrow.

It was a terrible burden, knowing when and how one was to die.

In two years, their world was due to change forever. How do you tell anybody about the end of the world? That everyone you know and love is under a sentence of death? Her one hope, the hope that kept her going, was that Cole would fit the pieces of the puzzle together and stop the deadly virus from being unleashed.

A virus that would kill 7 billion people…

Then also, how would you tell anyone that you know a time traveler who has been traveling back and forth over 30 years? A time traveler who seeks to change the past to save man's future?

_Oh, God, what would You have me do? Will this really be the end of the world?_

So she did what she knew to do. She worked tirelessly at her profession as a clinical virologist. She conducted seminars and engaged in widespread education. Was there anyone more meticulous than her in the practice of hygiene? What other worker kept Personal Protective Equipment ("PPE") in their home closets?

She eagerly sought collaboration with others in her field. Over the past year, her travels had brought her into contact with another skilled scientist, Dr. Henri Toussaint. She was attracted to his dedication, his idealism…if she wasn't a married woman, who knows what might have developed between them?

As they became friends, her intuition told her that he too kept a secret…what was it? There were rumors of foul play from his location in Haiti where he was helping with an epidemic. She heard about a shooting, but she could not find out any details. This heightened her need to exercise caution in all her doings.

...

She was well aware that her vigorous work in the area of pandemic prevention brought her to the attention of sinister forces. She sensed it. It was an almost palpable evil. It was something that stalked her movements. She spotted a man in a wide brimmed hat and a long trench coat who came to her lectures and sat in the back and remained in the shadows. She spoke to building security, and the unknown person did not return.

She then purchased and registered a handgun and engaged in target practice on a regular basis. She did not keep this from Aaron, and told him that this made her feel safer during late night sessions when she was away. He was relieved, to a certain degree, and encouraged her to practice.

…

_**The next day **__**\- A **__**visitor – Aaron's office**_

The tall slender brunette woman, striking in appearance, was seated in Aaron's office when he arrived for work.

"I'm sorry," he began to say, "I don't know of an appointment…what is your name?"

"My name is not important, Mr. Marker. What I have to say is very important. Your wife…"

"My _wife_? What _about_ my wife?"

"She appears to be in possession of information that is quite valuable, and dangerous at the same time. Do you know what it is?" She paused, looking at him intently, and continued. "I see from your expression that you do not know. A pity. The safety of Dr. Railly depends on you, Mr. Marker—Aaron."

"Do not call me by my first name. I don't know you, and I don't know what you're talking about. Please leave. _Now!"_

The woman sighed. "Take this card, Mr. Marker. Ask your wife to tell you what it means."

She left, closing the door quietly behind her. Aaron stared uncomprehendingly at the card in his hand. The card showed a tiny ring of monkeys, a circle of monkeys holding hands…

_The Army of the 12 Monkeys._


	4. Leland Goines

12 Monkeys Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: The author of this fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

_**Year 2015 – Leland Goines - Painful memory**_

Leland Goines sat in an empty room staring out the window. This was a pose that had become a customary one for him—sometimes lasting for hours.

He was thinking of his wife—the good years, the _happy_ years. He smiled pensively as he remembered her smile, her walk, her fragrant smell. But he found he couldn't remember the glad times without remembering as well her delusions, her hallucinations—her beautiful face contorted by emotion, the shouting, the suicide attempts. Despite his precautions, and the medications, she finally succeeded in taking her life. Jennifer was just an infant, then—a delightful girl who brought them much joy.

The year his wife died was 1987—right at a time when he had reached the pinnacle of his success. Jennifer was just a toddler. He devoted his time and his love to her-as much as a single parent could.

In later years, he faced the horror upon learning of Jennifer's showing the same schizophrenic symptoms as her mother. She had reached puberty…and begin to hear the voices in her head. Not again! How could he face losing one he loved again? He searched desperately for a lasting cure, consulted expert after expert. After years of trial and error, he thought he had found the mix of medication and meaningful work that gave his daughter a normal productive life, a _safe_ life. They had a common project—she was part of his daily business. He kept a close watch on her, watching for any signs of her illness returning.

But the dark day arrived. He remembered the day he held in shaking hand the photo of her holding up the bloody knife after her slaughter of the scientists in the lab where he placed her. Jennifer never spoke a coherent word to him after that day.

"She must be constantly watched, Goines. We must never risk her causing harm to anyone else, or herself for that matter. I know a place that will provide that care…" These were the words spoken to him by the man with the pale countenance, a humorless man.

_The Whistler._

_**Year 2015 – Same Day - Message to Leland Goines**_

Goines awoke from his place by the window with a start. He had been dozing in his seat by the window—by now the room had darkened with the fading light of the receding sun. Suddenly, he came to fully realize: he was not alone! A man was standing in the middle of the room, patiently.

"Who are you? How did you get in here—past the guards outside and my other security measures—my alarms?…"

Cole held up both his hands in a placating gesture.

"Don't worry, sir. I mean you no harm. Look at my face. Do you remember me?"

Goines stared intently at Cole. _Yes, this was someone familiar to him…but how, where?_ Suddenly it came to him .

"You! I saw you—the same year my wife died—you approached me and you asked me a strange question, what was it? Was it '**apocalypse**'? No, no it was 'army of monkeys'. You asked if I knew about an 'Army of 12 Monkeys'.

Cole nodded. "Very good, Leland Goines."

"The man I saw—it can't be you! Your face—you are the same age…"

Cole interrupted him, "It was me. Who I am is not as important as the message I have for you. Listen carefully to words I am about to say.

"Your daughter did not murder the scientists. She is innocent. Believe that. I cannot tell you more. You must work it out on your own. You're a smart man, you can do it."

With a tone of bitter resentment, Goines retorted, "How **can** I believe that? She was found holding the murder weapon, in a catatonic state, covered with blood, alone! No evidence was found of any other person who could have been responsible…"

Cole replied, "You are aware of a missing witness however. I know that you have looked for Henri Toussaint—he is the good man that you knew, and he will exonerate your daughter in due time. Be careful, others are looking for him as well and will kill him if they find him. So you must be discreet. Trust no one!

Cole gave him a distracted look. He said, "I am finished here—my time is up, I can feel it. Remember my words from this day. For your safety, tell no one else. You should know too that I am not a hallucination, nothing is wrong with your mind or perceptions of me…

"But I must leave—now."

Cole walked quickly to the door, stepped through, closing it behind him. Goines leapt to his feet to follow him and catch him in the outer room—ripping open the door. When he came fully into the room, he saw that it was empty. The door to the outer room was locked, secure, the alarm undisturbed. The man had vanished.

_Had he been dreaming? No, _he said to himself. _It was all real, too real_. He knew what he must do next.

_I must see Jennifer!_


	5. The Pallid Man (The Whistler)

12 Monkeys Alternate Universe – Shadow of the Whistler

Disclaimer: The author of this fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

**– Year 2015 - Greenhouse**

He was pale in countenance, a "pallid man". Some mistook him for an albino, but he was not . Others suspected sickliness—but he was tall and deceptively strong, despite a lean quality to his frame.

He was, as a few said, the likeness of "death warmed over."

Outside his hearing, there were old timers who called him "the Whistler"—recalling a radio drama of the same name-a man who knew many strange secrets held by men and women who walked in the dark, who hid in the shadows. The hollow sound of his measured footsteps together with a haunting, dry whistle—"Death's whistle"—had the effect of causing those who met him on the way to shudder. He knew the "nameless terrors" that afflicted men, although he betrayed no fears of his own.

On this night, seated in the dark, the Whistler spoke over the telephone—calmly, quietly. The telephone was a land line. He disdained the use of mobile devices, and he regarded almost all technology as a necessary evil.

"Dr. Sandman," he said pleasantly, "I've arranged for you to receive vast sums of money—for the benefit of your work, of course. You have a steady stream of income from Leland Goines for your tender care for his daughter in your institution. You have a second stream of income from me to give me regular reports and to inform me when and if Jennifer regains memory of certain important information. Perhaps if I were to make another visit to Jennifer…"

"Sir, permit me to say that your visits result in a loss of progress for our guest in every instance. If it were otherwise, I would tell you so immediately."

"Would you, doctor?"

He paused, and then he spoke with a humorous, yet steely quality to his voice,

"Yes, yes, that is our arrangement. What would you say if I could induce a visit by the father to his daughter? Is your opinion the same?"

"Yes, even worse. The father is incapable of concealing his guilt and depression resulting from the heinous acts of the daughter against the scientists who worked in the father's lab. On her part, Jennifer feels abandoned by her father who she feels should be supporting and protecting her."

"Hmm. So the father feels betrayed by the daughter, and the daughter feels cast off from the father. This presents a seeming incurable estrangement. Yet an interesting case study for you, is it not?"

"I am committed to working towards a breakthrough, have no doubt of that."

"Of course, of course, as you say. Keep me posted, doctor."

...

The Whistler sat in silence after returning the phone receiver to its cradle.

"Another solution will present itself, I'm sure." He mused to himself, twirling a sharpened stick—a bamboo shoot—between his long, spindly fingers.

He looked at a photo on his desk, a picture of himself and another young girl-his daughter, a blonde teenager.

"Fathers and daughters...what will a father do to protect his daughter? Too late for you, my darling."

He remembered the now long ago horror of his discovery that his daughter had been kidnapped by sex traffickers. When was it? The year **2010**? She had disappeared from his home at the age of 14-which began his frantic search for her. She had been missing for a year before he obtained word of her. His investigator reluctantly told the story: the daughter had been lured from the home by the pimp who wooed her, then forced her into bondage. She was forced to have sex more than 20 times a day with strangers. Finally, during an unsuccessful attempt to escape, she was murdered by her pimp in his effort to cover up his crime and evade capture.

The Whistler began his campaign to topple the sex trafficking trade-a multi-billion dollar business in the U.S. alone. His fervor gave way to despair, then a controlled rage. Too little was being done-the trade continued, unabated. The rage he felt was a constant companion to him. No one cared for his pain, the hurt he felt. His proposal to infiltrate sex traffickers and unleash powerful bio-weapons was spurned by the politicians. He recalled a meeting with one particular senator.

Senator Royce. The senator had scoffed at his ideas. "We must be careful with bio-weaponry. Your plan will affect the innocent...how do we control it once unleashed?"

Now, sitting alone in the dim light of his office, he murmured to himself-not for the first time- "All mankind will hurt-as _I_ hurt."

...

**Year 2043 – The Lab**

The scientists debated quickly and furiously now that they were in possession of a few additional facts and a diagram. A dossier was compiled on Goines that they pored over for hours.

Jones exclaimed to Cole, "We are fortunate that Goines was so prominent, and a wealthy man. We had been unable to find anything out about "Frost". However, there is an abundance of material about Goines and his family. Leland Goines was funding projects that produced studies on Paleovirology, which has to do with the study of ancient viruses. He was searching for a cure for his daughter, who was schizophrenic. So he had a group of scientists making reports of their findings related to a virus found in the nerve tissue of schizophrenic patients."

Then Jones continued, "Now, the Easter egg you were told about—that means that you have successfully made multiple trips, survived and sent yourself messages. The container that we'll call an Easter egg is a time capsule. You'll hide something in 2015, and we'll find it in our time—2043.

Cole nodded. "Jones, you haven't told me what the Hitler paradox is all about."

She responded quickly. "You know the concept by another name. When I prepared you for your first trip, I explained to you about the 'grandfather paradox'. Remember?"

Cole said, "Yeah, I understand that I can't go back in time and kill my grandfather. If I did, then one of my parents wouldn't be born and I would not be born to go back in time to commit the murder. So is Goines my grandfather?"

Jones turned her head and thought for a moment, her chin in hand.

She finally said, "No, I wouldn't think so. The reference to Hitler is the key, here. During the 1940's, he was an evil man who rose to great power. He was responsible for the murder of anywhere from 11 to 19 million civilians during World War II. Millions of soldiers also died in that war. In stories about time travel, Hitler cannot be killed—he was too prominent and well protected. In the historical record, we know that a number of assassination attempts against him failed anyway…"

"Hey, maybe those assassination attempts were by time travelers!" Cole said, giving her a wry look.

Ignoring Cole's comment, Jones continued.

"The point is: he worked with others, chief among them: a man named Hermann Göring and a deputy named Rudolf Hess. A time traveler assassin would have to eliminate all three men. After Germany lost the war, Hitler and Göring killed themselves—about a year apart. Of the three, Hess survived a long time as a prisoner, and the cause of his death was debated during my lifetime. As recently as 2012, researchers were still questioning: did Hess commit suicide—or was he murdered?"

Cole asked, "When did Hess die?"

She answered, "The death of Hess occurred in the year **1987**."

Jones looked thoughtfully at Cole for a long moment.

Finally, Cole said, "What? What are you thinking?"

Opening up the folder under her arm, Jones pored over the clippings contained inside.

"Here!" she exclaimed. "I remembered something about Goines and **1987**. The earliest reference we have of him is at a function in 1987—we know exactly where he was in that year. Come, take a look at his picture."

"Maybe I'm supposed to go back and get information from him during that year."

Jones shook her head, "No, we don't have the means to send you back that far with the current power at our disposal. Look closely in this photo at the man at his elbow. A tall thin man—with a pale complexion, almost ashy white…"

The man in the photo, standing with Leland Goines, was the "Pallid Man."

_—The Whistler…_


	6. Mentally divergent, the Cuckoo's Nest

12 Monkeys Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: The author of this fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

**Year 2043 - Mission: Jump to the Cuckoo's Nest**

Cole said his goodbyes, and gave a salute to his best friend.

"Ramse, see you when I see you."

Ramse pumped his fist. "Yeah, go save the world, brother."

"Remember, Cole, the means of gathering information will be from the daughter." Jones said. "She should have lucid moments where she may talk about her father and her father's work. We know we cannot approach the man directly".

Cole looked at Jones warily. "What is the plan, exactly?"

"Yes, let's go over the plan. You will appear in the alley closest to the mental institution where she is being held."

"Then I check myself in".

"Simple as that. Show them the scars from bullet wounds and knife fights. They will believe that you suffer from what they will call 'Post traumatic Stress Disorder or PTSD'. They will not need much convincing. Most of us who have survived to this time probably suffer from it. We live with trauma and danger on a daily basis. They will keep you for observation for 48 hours, then you should be released. You must accomplish your mission within that time frame and we will extract you during the following hour. Get what information you can get. Hide the information in the 'Easter egg'."

Cole climbed into the elevated chair. The time machine began to make its now all-too-familiar noise. A bright light, almost unbearable in its intensity, suffused Cole.

He vanished from the year 2043.

**YEAR 2015 – Jennifer's Tale**

Stooped to one knee, Cole felt the characteristic disorientation and weakness that accompanied the time trip. The alley carried the strong smell of stale beer and putrid garbage. "I've smelled worse things", he muttered to himself.

At the front desk of the asylum, he recited his memorized line, "I'm losing it, man! I'm losing it, man! Check me in, man! Check me out, man!" He lifted his shirt over his head so that his scars would be visible. He thought about adding, "I'm from the future, man!" Then they would really believe he was crazy.

The orderlies stood to each side of him while the doctor asked him questions.

"Have you been hospitalized before? Do you know where you are? Do you know what the day is? Who can we contact?"

"Where I am…I'm here, man! What the day is, it's today, man! I got no one, I got nothing, man!"

The doctor addressed the nurse who appeared at his side. "No identification, probably no insurance. Do a drug screen, but he probably has PTSD, those are serious scars he carries from old fights…"

When he first came to the common area, Jennifer Goines was off to the side, alone. She was saying something to herself. What was she saying? Cole moved closer to the corner she was in, and as unobtrusively as possible he came within listening range. What he heard gave him a shock.

Jennifer was saying, in a sing-song lilt, a children's rhyme:

_"5 little monkeys jumping on the bed._

_One fell off and bumped his head._

_Momma called the doctor. The doctor said,_

_"No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"_

Abruptly, she turned her head and looked fully into Cole's face.

**"No more monkeys jumping on the bed!"**

Then a wide mischievous grin spread over her face.

Cole asked her, "Jennifer, do you know me?"

She retorted, "Did you know that **5** is a prime number? Do you like prime numbers? Let's talk prime numbers…"

"Jennifer", Cole said, "Do 5 monkeys make an army?"

Jennifer lost her grin and contemplated the question.

"What monkey are you, Cole? You're not the pale monkey who bites. You're not the daddy monkey who hides. What monkey are you?"

"I'm one monkey—and 12 monkeys."

"Let's see—one and 12 equals 13. 13 is another prime number. Very good! I like you, Cole!"

Her grin returned. Cole smiled despite himself.

She said, "The other monkeys are looking for the night room—Daddy's night room. How can you find a night room—during the day? Answer me that, monkey!"

The doctor who had been taping her conversation by hidden mike abruptly switched it off and pulled out his cell phone. In a low voice, he said, "You wanted to know her mention of a certain phrase. She just started talking about it now. The 'night room'. Yes, I understand. I await your arrival."

The Whistler hung up the telephone on his end and in a quiet voice ordered his servants to bring the car around.

"Make haste, men. We're close now, very close. It's time to pay a visit to our friend's daughter, after all."

...

**YEAR 2015 – At the Asylum: Jennifer, Cole and Dr. Railly**

At the asylum, the nurse motioned towards the lounge area.

"Doctor, the patient you have transfer papers for is over there." Dr. Cassandra Railly spotted Cole then, her forged papers in a folder she held, and she strode over to him.

"Did you find her?" she asked Cole. Then Jennifer emerges from the shadows.

"Cassie, meet Jennifer. Jennifer this is Cassie, a friend."

Jennifer looks Cassie up and down suspiciously. "Why are you here? What have you got to do with Cole?"

Cassie replies softly and handed Cole a box. "I have an important message for him, that's all. Cole, don't read the message in this box—until you get back. It's for your friend, Ramse. Find a good hiding place."

Jennifer interrupts, "Good, you gave the message. You're dismissed!"

Cassie shook her head. "Cole, it's also time for you to leave. Jennifer, you're about to have other company and the rest of us can't be here!'

At this, Jennifer shrank back into herself and pulled her hands to her head.

Cole said, "Don't worry. Everything will be all right." Jennifer calmed immediately at his words. "Cassie, let's get ready to leave out one of the side entrances. I want to be sure that her father gets here.

"Daddy's coming?" Jennifer whispered the question.

"Yes." Cole replied. "He should be here any minute. I'll be close by. " Cole and Cassie moved to the shadows of the adjoining room to observe.

...

**YEAR 2015 – Reunion - Same day: Asylum and Goines **

After the incident with Cole, Leland Goines doubled his security. The random thought occurred to him then that perhaps, like his daughter, he was beginning to experience hallucinations and delusional thinking. He dismissed the thought immediately. Since the time that he ceased the use of cocaine in 1987, his thinking was clear and precise, and he was always in control. He pondered again the dilemma of his relationship with Jennifer. From time to time he caught glimpses that her abstract reasoning and linear thinking were still sharp and accurate.

Also, he was well aware that she had not killed the scientists in his laboratory. What enemy made up the elaborate scheme to frame her for the crime? He knew that he would be accused of tampering with the footage of the security tapes, and that she would convicted of her fellow workers' murders. He believed that his quick action to have her committed and placed in a secret and secure facility saved her from prison and from the danger of being the true killer's next victim.

...

Arriving at the asylum and as he waited for his visit to be announced, he stared out the window. He saw a man he recognized, the man with the pallid countenance, who had just arrived in the parking area. At that moment, Leland had a flash of intuition—of course! The very man capable of such a deed! But why had he waited so long to play his card? He switched on the push-to-talk feature on his cell phone enabling security through voice and signaling encryption using the Advanced Encryption Standard (AES) 256 to protect his transmission.

...

"Goines here. The tall man who just arrived—I'd like to have a word with him privately. Detain and question the men who are with him. Find out why they are here."

"Affirmative." the head of his security responded.

Looking up, the Whistler aptly concealed his annoyance and surprise. He had only employed a few men to accomplish the task of whisking away the slender girl, and the presence and show of force by her father was most unwelcome.

"Ah! Leland Goines! A pleasure, sir!" He exclaimed with his mocking smile.

"I'm sure." Goines replied. He did not offer his hand. "Your men and my men are having a… conversation…not far away."

In the silence that followed, there was the slight sound of a man crying out in pain—muffled, indistinct—and not altogether unusual for an asylum. The Whistler, however, recognized the voice and for the second time concealed his displeasure with some difficulty.

...

Goines pressed the ear bud into his ear. "What's that?"

The head of the security force informed him. "His men were instructed to distract the staff, and remove your daughter by the back entrance."

Goines stared at the Whistler, who returned his stare curiously, almost impudently.

Goines told his man, "I see. Thank you. See that we're not interrupted, please."

...

He then directed his grim attention to the Whistler. He nodded to one of his security force and motioned towards the Whistler. The burly man, moving with unexpected quickness, delivered a heavy blow to the Whistler's mid-section.

Goines inclined his head towards the Whistler, now doubled over. "It is fortunate for you that I am acquainted with your employer. Otherwise our encounter here would have had a much more unpleasant outcome. It will be wise if you make no further attempt to locate my daughter in the future. Your attentions are unwanted."

His final words barely concealed a sound somewhat akin to a snarl. It did not escape his notice that the Whistler looked up at him with a gaze of fury and hatred.

Just then, his daughter arrived at the door. He looked up, and past her—there! In the shadows of the next room was the man, Cole! He sprang to the door, but found the next room dark and empty.

...

"What is it, Daddy?" his daughter exclaimed.

"Nothing." he replied wearily. "I thought for a moment…" Then he said,

"Jennifer, let's go home." She nodded.

Then Leland saw his daughter divert her attention to the Whistler. She strode over to the pallid man boldly, restrained as he was by her father's security force. She spat in his face.

"Something to remember me by,…pale monkey." She looked at him with a scowl that transformed into a grin. "Hey, no bamboo shoots up the fingernails today?"

The pallid man stared stonily ahead, his face now a mask devoid of emotion.

She sighed and turned away abruptly. "Yes, Daddy. Let's go."

**YEAR 2043 - Jones, Cole &amp; Ramse - Another message**

Katrina Jones debriefed Cole upon his return.

"Yeah, you got me out of there just in time. Jennifer and the night room are safe. I suspect that Leland Goines will move his treasures to secure locations."

"Cole, it is not wise for you to be too entangled with this Jennifer Goines."

"She's important to the puzzle somehow. Why wasn't she killed by the bad guys but set up to take the fall for the murder of her fellow scientists? She knows something, and more than just the location of the night room."

Jones is silent for a moment. "I suspect you're right. Did you pick up the next Easter egg with a message?"

"Yes, but Ramse and I have to get it alone. He is mixed up in the next phase of the mission in some way."

...

_**James and Max**_

James Cole paced back and forth feverishly—time was both a friend and an enemy at the same time.

He was thinking of the woman he loved—Max—waiting for her to show up at the laboratory.

Just as he hoped, she appeared at the perimeter and he rushed to meet her. They embraced.

Cole held Max at arm's length. "You're here!"

Max smiled and tossed her hair back. "Got your message. How did you know that I could read—and Deacon couldn't?"

"I was with the West 7 long enough. He put on a good act—but I could tell. My worry was that one of his other soldiers would intercept the message and they would be upon us. I had to leave a message that you would understand, but I didn't want Deacon to turn on you."

"Yeah, I'm good at reading between the lines. Your message said:

_Ordered to kill Ramse. Doing what I got to do. See you soon._

"That was not a lot to go on, lover boy. I knew that you wouldn't kill Ramse—he's, like, your brother. So you and he went on the run. Then, the only way to see me soon was for me to find you. Deacon was having me watched, but I slipped away. He'll be ticked off bad".

She swiveled her head up at him, her face showing her concern. "The West 7 will figure it out soon enough. I was one of his best trackers and hid my tracks as best I could, but I had to move fast".

Cole nodded. "Ramse is out there right now going over and obliterating your tracks and planting a false trail.

"Yeah, good thinking. I knew I picked one of the smart ones." She kissed him again.

Cole looked up. "Here comes Ramse. I have to show him something. Be right back."

...

Ramse and Cole go to nearby ruins, listening carefully for scavengers. There in the abandoned structure, behind a loose tile in a remaining intact structure he found the small box. Just where he had left it.

"Cole, man, this is not an egg. This is a square."

"I know what it is. How am I going to send a real egg almost 30 years into the future? It would stink almost as much as you do!"

"Funny, real funny."

Ramse opens the box, reads the message and is overcome with emotion, unable to speak.

...

Cole takes the message from Ramse's outstretched hand and reads the following:

**_This message is for Ramse. Elena is alive, and has a son—your son. His name is Sam. _**

**_They are safe at Spearhead—but not for long. _**

**_You have to go there and protect them. Leave now._**

"Cole, I've got a son! A son! I've got to go." But then he turns abruptly towards Cole.

"Wait a minute. Now that I've got a son, I don't want to be erased. I don't want my son to be erased."

Cole replied. "Think man. This message is from 'future me'. That means that whatever is supposed to happen hasn't happened yet. We can't be erased. We may never be erased. I think Jones is wrong about that. Besides, I got your back man. Now, and in the future."

Ramse pointed the finger at him. "You better be right. Otherwise I'm going to find a way to come back to 1987 and kick your monkey butt!"

"Yeah, yeah, big man." Cole gripped his shoulder. "Hey, you got a family now! Get going! Go!"

Ramse smiled, waved his hand in salute, and slipped out into the dusk.

Cole held the message up to the light and saw another message scrawled in pencil on the back.

**_Watch out for Jones..._**

He walked to a nearby burning ash can and incinerated the message.

_What now?_ He wondered.


	7. Deacon and West 7

12 Monkeys Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: The author of this fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

_DEACON AND WEST 7 – YEAR 2043_

The crew known as West 7 stared stolidly at the fire that had been hastily started. As had long been practiced, they made little noise or movement. For hours earlier, the group had spent another exhausting night searching for signs of Ramse, Cole or Max. Deacon's frenzy had driven them to a constant vigilance.

On that night, Deacon's second in command dragged in the frail scavenger. The scavenger was sore ridden and dirty, gaunt from lack of food. In the brisk air, he edged as close to the fire as he dared. In the quietness, only his gasped breaths could be heard.

The crew member slapped the back of the scavenger's head. "Speak, you pitiful worm! Tell him what you told me!"

Deacon inclined his head with interest. "News?" he asked. "Ah, it has been so long since I've heard any news! So tell me."

The scavenger replied, his speech punctuated by occasional pauses, "The scientist, Jones…her men captured me…she has many men... They beat me. "

Leaning closer, Deacon continued the interrogation. "How many men does Jones have?"

The scavenger's eyes darted from face to face. "I don't know! I don't know! They kept me in a dark room. and moved me from place to place…I was blindfolded when they set me free…"

"What did they want with you?"

Jones wanted me to 'volunteer' for one of her experiments…"

"So, why are you still alive? Why isn't your skin turned inside out?"

The man hung his head. "They tested me. The scientists did not think I would survive. Others were used. There is one other. I heard them speak his name."

Looking around, and seeing that he had their full attention, he spoke slowly.

"His name is 'Cole.'"

Deacon came close to the man, speaking in a low voice: "Cole lives?"

"Yes, yes…I have heard the guards speak of him…they experiment on him constantly…"

Deacon smiled approvingly at the scavenger. "You done good. You're free to go."

As the scavenger began to trot away, Deacon pulled the gun from his waistband and shot the man in the back.

"On second thought, we can't have you getting yourself recaptured by them, and telling what you know about us. Sorry."

He clapped his hands. "Let's clean it up, pronto!" He replaced his gun at the hip and strode away.

…

Some members of the gang looked on with unease, as each remembered hearing stories of Jones' "mad scientist" experiments. Despite any misgivings, all the crew members kept their unease well-hidden. They obediently buried the dead man in a shallow grave as they watched Deacon walk away into the night.

What they didn't know—what Deacon never talked about—was that Deacon had learned that his own brother was the victim of one of Jones' early 'experiments'. He could not confess his own fear from hearing the stories of what Jones was doing. He hated the weakness in himself—and vowed that Jones would pay.

However, now, _now, _the business with Cole and Ramse, and now Max,-_deserters!_ This changed things. He felt himself losing control…now, _now_ is the time. _He must strike back_!

_How to get in? What number of soldiers waited inside? _

Deacon looked for a way to capture one of them—make him talk.

Finally, after fruitless days of surveillance, Deacon called one of his men over.

"I've got something important for you to do. Get in. Surrender. Infiltrate them. Gain their trust. Then get back to me. I know you won't fail me."

"I'll go."

The man knew that his hope was slim. He, too had heard the stories. However, in this world without hope, death was inevitable. He could die any day by a lucky shot from a scavenger. He could fall during a pitched battle against a fortified enemy. Only Deacon had it right. Grab as much resource as you can. Gain territory. Territory is power. Look for weapons and energy sources—and clean water. _ Kill your enemy—show no mercy!_

…

_Cole and Max – Year 2043_

Cole was first alerted to a change because of the absence of scavengers around the perimeter. At first, he could make no sense of the sudden peace. Since his first day at the compound, there was never any lack of scavengers stumbling on to the place, resulting in battle or capture. Those scavengers who were stragglers, disorganized, searching for food or supplies were fed horror stories about the "mad scientist" Jones, shown pictures of "failed experiments" and then blindfolded and transported far beyond the boundaries of the compound and told never to return under threat of execution. In fact, none were ever executed. A few came back, and were given useful responsibilities that earned them a place under close watch.

Ramse had already left to find Elena and his son at Spearhead. If he had been there, he would have spotted Deacon's move immediately.

When Whitley brought in the prisoner, the man was confined to a soundproof interrogation room with one way glass. Standing with Cole at her side, at first glance, Max recognized the West 7 member.

"Cole…" she started to say.

"Yeah, I know. West 7. I knew something was up."

"If this man was sent, does that mean Deacon knows I'm here? Or you?"

Cole gave Max a haunted look. She knew that look.

…

_Flashback - Year 2032_

Max remembered vividly that day when she first met Cole. Deacon "assigned" her to give Cole his orientation to the West 7 group. Translation: She knew she was to meet any "needs" he had. This was the role given to the few women in the group. That. And being fighters too. She thought it was all right, a fair exchange. She was no longer hungry and scared all the time and had a place to sleep…

When Cole first looked at her, and spoke to her, he was kind and respectful. No one had been that way with her for as long as she could remember. She could also tell he liked her—but he held himself back. He was lean and tough, but she sensed an inner gentle and sensitive side.

_Cole, how did you survive so long?_

Somehow, she knew not how, she loved him from the first. They reached out to one another, quickly, desperately.

…

After a long while, in the 3 years that followed, Cole opened up about his childhood. He told her that his father had been murdered before his eyes. He became close friends at the orphanage with Ramse. The few girls he had known fell to the plague as he entered his teenage years. He had a life of deprivation, loss, struggle. She had known much of the same in her life.

Max's father had been a missionary doctor. Ironically, he had survived an Ebola outbreak when she was a child, only to succumb to the latest plague that also killed her mother-together with 7 billion other people. She wondered what happened to her father's good friend, a Haitian with a ready smile. Dr. Henri Toussaint. She had not seen him, or any of her father's friends, after her father's death.

…

When she was left all alone—not one of her family surviving—she questioned God.

_Why did You let this happen?_

She was angry with God for many years. However, during the desolate meaningless years, she found that she had become weary by the hatred and cruelty shown by Deacon and the members of the West 7 and the unending senseless killing of the weak and defenseless. She thought,

_There's __still__ a 'right' and 'wrong'. Someday there __will __be__ a reckoning._

She dared not express these thoughts—Deacon would suppress any dissension with swift execution. She knew before it happened that Ramse's outspoken disagreement with Deacon's methods were leading to a crisis—and that Deacon would soon order his death. She could not have imagined that Deacon would order Cole to carry out the 'sentence'. The note that she had found from Cole after his escape with Ramse flooded her with joy, relief…and hope.

…

_Back to the present – Year 2043_

Cole spoke to Whitley and his soldiers:

"Deacon's crew has twice our number of fighters. He had 200 men when we joined him, and he's constantly recruiting more. He chooses those who have any strength or skill—and who are immune to the virus. They're trained to kill, and they scavenge for weapons more than for food. They will kill the weak and unprotected for little or no reason. If they find someone who is part of a group, they will torture that person to get any information—and then kill the person.' "

"Our would-be defector is here for a reason. They are testing our defenses. This is the first. When he first came across Ramse and me, he sent a few of his baddest men against us—to capture or kill us but also to find out our strengths. When we took out his men, he recruited us—we had no choice but to join him. We were with him for 3 years until we left—for good."

Cole hesitated a moment. "Ramse never wanted to join their group, but he backed my play. I regret pulling him into that. I did stuff for Deacon that I'm not proud of, that I'd like to erase."

Max gripped Cole's shoulder and resumed the discourse. "Yeah. We all did. Deacon's philosophy is 'only the strong survive.' As you know, he killed everybody at the Western 7 Quarantine Zone –doctors, soldiers, women, children. That's when they first took up the name 'West 7'."

"This man was sent to infiltrate us and take back a report. They know we are taking scavengers in, and either letting them go or putting them to work".

…

_Flashback—Year 2032_

**Yosu-miru**

_Cole's reflection... _

One day, in a good mood, Ramse said to Cole, "See, pal, the game of Go is like this. Each player has a set of stones. Look, I've bleached one set and stained the other set. When I was little, my grandfather had a board with white and black pieces.

My grandfather was part Japanese, and he was wrongly interred during World War II. He had a lot of time to play in the camp. All you need are a few stones."

When I first learned to play, I learned about sacrificing a piece. It's called, '_Yosu-miru'_. He would say this phrase, it goes:

'_shibaraku yōsu o miru beki da'_

Cole looked up from the board. "What's it mean?"

"Well, the best translation is 'Wait and watch, and see what happens'.

…

_Back to the present Year 2043_

Whitley's question gave Cole an eerie sense of _déjà vu_.

"What's it mean, Cole?

'Yosu-miru'? Cole hadn't realized he'd said the phrase out loud. He looked up sharply.

"It means that Deacon is testing us. He is planning an all-out assault on our compound. He wants to see what we'll do with his man. I'd guess that his attack is 2 or 3 days away—depending upon whether the man comes back, and if he has any useful information. Deacon won't give up. He thinks he's invincible. But he's smart enough to plan his attack depending upon what he learns about his enemy, and his enemy's weaknesses. Some stuff he already knows. He'll be noting the number and location of our perimeter guards.

…

Jerking his thumb in the direction of the prisoner, Cole continued,

"This poor joker is expendable—if he comes back, it'll be to back up what Deacon already knows and maybe, _maybe_ bring back useful information. If he doesn't come back—well, Deacon will start to send waves of his guys against the perimeter and against any weak points of entry to assault the fortress. He could care less about the men he'll lose. When he sees the lights, and hears the hum of our power source, he'll know we have a power source that outstrips anything he's got. He's gonna want to take that—at any cost of lives."

"So, let's send his spy back—but with 'dis-information.'

"Jones, can you spare some of those pictures? The ones with the guys 'turned inside out'? Let's put the scare on."

Whitley gave Cole a sidelong look. "Cole" he said, "I never thought I'd say this. You've got the right idea, man!"

Cole gave him a pained look. "Whitley, I never thought I'd hear you say it either. In fact, _don't _say it. It's creepin' me out." Then, he gave Whitley a slow smile. Whitley nodded back.

"Let's do this!"

Later, alone with his thoughts, Cole pondered. The image of the monkey head sketched by Jennifer Goines at the asylum came to mind. He wondered:

_When can I get back to my real mission? When will I find it?_

…_The Night Room_


	8. Fight for the Compound

12 Monkeys Alternate Universe

Disclaimer: The author of this fan fiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).

**YEAR 2043**

Deacon went over and over his lieutenant's report in his mind. He did not trust the information, but why? The facts were too neatly packaged. The scientists were hiding something. His brow, wrinkled in thought, cleared as an idea occurred to him. He was ready now to make the assault.

Cole and Max watched from their vantage point from an upper passageway. Cole held binoculars to his eyes, the sweat from his face occasionally blurring the outer lens, although the night was cool. From time to time the courtyard was lit by an explosion and faces were clearly visible.

"Max, take a look. What do you see?"

"The attack is weak. I don't recognize any of these men—and Deacon wouldn't use new recruits for a main assault."

"Exactly!" Cole said emphatically. "These men are being sacrificed as a decoy…but where is his main force?"

Max looked at Cole directly. "He must have figured out that there are exhaust tunnels—a way in."

...

Cole pressed the talk button on his walkie-talkie. "Whitley, they're about to come thru the back door. Repeat, they're coming thru the back door! Do you read me?"

"Too late!" He heard the shouts over the squawk of Whitley's reply. "They're blasting a way in! We're taking heavy fire! Fall back to protect Jones!"

Cole grabbed Max's arm. "We've got to get to the professor!"

When they arrived, Cole saw a small circle surrounding the scientists, and Deacon emerging with an automatic weapon trained on Jones.

"Well, well, at last! Cole! I wasn't sure I was going to see you again."

Cole kept his weapon trained on Deacon. "It's none too soon for me, Deacon."

Deacon said with mock hurt, "Is that any way to talk to your old buddy?"

"You've never been a buddy of mine, you sonuva…."

"Hey! Watch your language…there are ladies present. Hi ya Max. I'm glad to see you too. What a reunion this is! Look around you, Cole. We still have you outnumbered more than two to one. Lay down your arms now…maybe I'll let you live."

"No way. I may go down…but you'll go first!"

Grimly, Deacon's fingered tensed on the trigger of his weapon. "I'll shoot Jones, unless you lay down your weapon…now!"

Cole hesitated, and Deacon raised his weapon threateningly, jerking it in Jones direction.

...

Suddenly, there was the unexpected sound of an explosion! There was more gunfire…Deacon was distracted, but raised his free hand.

"Nobody move! Who's firing? I thought the perimeter was locked down! Report!"

Just then, Ramse appeared with his gun aimed at Deacon's head.

"Cole might miss…but I won't, sucker!"

Soldiers streamed into the room at Ramse's back. They were the men from Spearhead...led by Colonel Foster!

...

The men from West 7 were directed to put their weapons down, get on their knees and put their hands on top of their heads.

Cole looked at Ramse with amazement. Ramse smiled. He explained, "When I was heading to Spearhead to meet Elena I saw Deacon's advance scouts on a reconnoiter of the area around the compound. I convinced Colonel Foster here that it was in everyone's best interest not to let West 7 get too strong and powerful".

Cole returned the smile. "Hey brother, for once, we got the other guy 'in Atari'"

Ramse laughed. "You got that right!"

...

Just then, somehow, with lightning speed, Deacon avoided the man who was about to bind him with ropes. He leaped to the platform and held a knife to Jones' throat.

With a shout of triumph mixed with desperation he cried, "None of you will be able to stop me from avenging my brother's killer!"

Jones said in a dispassionate tone, "Your brother, Finn, is alive and well. He was a successful trial of our machine. There's a picture of him on the corkboard…"

A disbelieving Deacon dragged Jones to the corkboard staring at the picture of his brother. "You lie! This is a trick of some sort!"

Jones said indignantly. "I am a scientist, and don't have to resort to lies. If he had died, I would have told you so. I deal in facts. The fact remains that he is alive—in another time."

Deacon slackened his grip, and she turned to him. "I will send him to you—if you wish it."

Cole shouted, "No! Don't waste the power!"

Jones said, "We have the power to do it. It's a one-way trip that far, however."

...

Looking back at Deacon, she explained. "Your brother was sent back as far as we could send someone. In agreeing to this test he set a condition. He said he didn't want to be brought back. Do you want to go to him? Your trip also would be a one-way trip."

Something about Jones earnestness caused Deacon to believe her words. "Yes. Yes, I'd like to see my brother again."

Jones directed her scientists, "To the machine! Set the dials." She turned to Deacon.

"Sit in this chair. This will hurt, a little…"

There was a hum, a whine, then a blinding flash. Deacon disappeared from the chair.

**YEAR 1987**

Deacon raised his head, gritting his teeth against the wrenching pain of his insides. For a split second, he was overwhelmed with fear—what if he were turned inside out? He probed his stomach carefully…No, his insides were where they should be, and already the pain was beginning to subside…to a dull ache. He looked around. He was in a darkened room-in an office building of some sort, modern and new looking.

Wherever he was, suddenly a klaxon alarm went off and there were flashing lights. Guards in uniform filed into the room and trained their guns on him. He heard voices shouting,

"Security breach! There is an intruder! He is armed!"

The leader of the group of men motioned to him menacingly. "Drop the weapon, or be dropped!"

Deacon dropped the knife that he was still clutching in his fist.

_What a fool I was! It was a trap after all!_

_..._

As directed, he resignedly assumed a kneeling position and placed his hands on his head. Then for an inexplicably long time, he waited while his captors held their guns trained on him and the leader spoke in low tones in a communicating device. All of the lights in the room came up slowly.

Then, at his back, he heard laughter—a familiar laugh! Deacon whipped his head up.

"Finn!"

Finn motioned for the men to lower their guns and he rushed to his brother with long strides. Deacon leaped to his feet and the two embraced with a bear hug.

"Do you recognize this facility?"

Deacon looked around. "Should I?"

Finn chuckled. "Maybe, maybe not. You're the only one who could appreciate the irony. Deacon, this is the original West 7 laboratory. I founded it. When we captured the facility in our other time, we were just taking back what was our own!"

Deacon looked around, bewildered. Finn patted Deacon on the shoulder, "Yeah, yeah I know. It's a lot to take in all at once. You must hurt like the dickens too after that trip you made."

Finn studied his face, "You look older."

Deacon said, "Yeah. You were gone for a while. You look the same, though"

Finn smiled. "Ain't it grand? Something about the time trip..."

...

Walking around the room Deacon stopped by an image on a poster on the wall—a logo?

"What's this, man?"

"That? Oh, that's a promising investment that I'm getting in on at the ground floor. Brother, we're going to be dealing in money and power—no more beating up scavengers for a warm coat and a piece of meat…"

Half listening, Deacon continued to study the image on the wall. It was the screaming grimace of a monkey—surrounded by a small ring of monkeys…he counted them, they were

_An Army of 12 Monkeys!_


End file.
